Snapped
by wrestlefan4
Summary: Matt is pushed to the breaking point after stumbling upon his cheating husband. He takes matters into his own hands, which are soon covered in blood. Warning: Violence, murder. MHardy, Jericho, Evan Bourne, Cody Rhodes,Adam Copeland, Amy Dumas,JHardyOST


Snapped

No one would have ever suspected the elder Hardy's name to be so sensationally splashed across national headlines, especially not splashed in blood. He was the level-headed one, the man who loved life despite the many low-blows it had dealt him, beginning with a rough childhood after the death of his mother. He was known for his impressive and even inspirational inner strength, so many times he had arisen from the ashes to spread his wings, shake the charred, black bits away, and come out better than before. Matt Hardy never let the upsets get him too down, or at least he never showed it.

Every man has his breaking point.

It happened in August 2010, on the heels of the hot and numbing summer as it finally began to wind down into September. Things would be changed forever and for so many people after once warm, earth-tone eyes fell onto a scene of betrayal and turned cold.

After falling hard for various low-life throughout his adulthood, and always being carelessly tossed aside, Matt had finally known that those patterns of relationships were over. This time was different, because the love he felt for Chris overwhelmed him and raised him to heights none of his former lovers could have ever tried to take him. It only took a few dates with the blond haired vixen for Matt to come to this realization. He didn't even allow himself time to consider that he was jumping in too quickly, that was the one and only area of his life where his logical thinking left him every time. These situations brought Matt Hardy to rely on his heart and his gut instead of what was between his ears, and so he found himself swept up into a whirl-wind of romance and the deepest friendship that he had ever known.

When Matt was with Chris, nothing and no one else existed. There was only Chris and only their love and Matt knew with every bit of his soul that this was it, and that this was the way he wanted the rest of his life to be forever. Chris put a ring on his finger, together they made promises, and aligned themselves together as one beating heart.

Matt had never felt so alive, so happy, there was nothing that could touch the love that they shared. Nothing, and no one.

At least, that's what Matt had thought he'd known.

The fates just had to prove him wrong again. There was some force that did not want Matt Hardy to be happy, to find love, to be at peace. There was some dark thing that always managed to worm its way into his life and destroy the most sacred things again and again.

Matt had been out with a torn bicep, and now that it was mending, he decided to pay a visit to his husband. Their time apart was eating at him, and he wanted nothing more than to go to Chris and wrap him in his arms, lay kisses to his lips, and then spend an evening with him out on the town. Then, they would come back to Chris's hotel room for a night of passion that was far overdue.

Matt had it all planned out, but all of his finely tuned outlines were obliterated when he opened the door using the keycard he had managed to flirt away from the receptionist.

Chris was not alone in his room. The door opened upon a scene of infidelity. There was his husband on his knees, his fussed-over blond hair gripped between someone elses fingers, his strong hands—the left which still bore the mark of their oath—grasped firmly to someone elses hips, and his soft lips that smiled in that endearing, half-crooked way, were wrapped around someone elses cock. Tears quickly burned and blurred away the scene in front of him. His husband scrambled quickly to his feet and towards him, his now meaningless words falling over themselves, as Matt made a hasty retreat from the room. The keycard was tossed into a garbage can and he stumbled out to his car which he had drove miles and miles to make this visit possible. His hands balled into fists and crashed again and again into the steering wheel, ragged screams tearing from his throat, until he was exhausted. Matt slumped over the wheel, his primal cries rendered to silent sobs.

Somehow, he had managed to drive through the night, through the cascade of never ending tears, and back to the home that belong to both him and Chris. It made his heart ache in such a way that he didn't think he could survive it, to walk up those steps, and fall into the home that was now nothing more than a cold shell. He didn't even bother to pick himself up from floor, he just curled his legs up close to his chest, and wept until he passed out.

When Matt woke up, two days had passed him by. He was stiff and achy from lying curled on the floor, but it didn't matter much to him. During his long, dark, sleep, a dream had come to him. Maybe it was more of a vision, but nonetheless he had found an answer to every problem he had ever had in his life. It seemed so simple really, and he wondered why he had never considered it before.

Matt's feet carried him to the kitchen, where he tilted his head at the set of knives all arranged in the wooden block atop his counter. His lips pulled up into a strange smile as he watched his hand reach towards the objects and pull each knife from the block, examining every unique blade carefully. This was the way to do it, to end all the misery for good. He wiped at his eyes, only to find that there were no tears. Dehydration had probably settled in, but he didn't feel like drinking. What need did he have to replenish his tears when he could dry them forever?

An awkward gait led him to his car, which was parked askew in the driveway. He pushed the accelerator evenly the whole time, feeling no need to rush, and only the need to replay the dream in his head over and over, to hear each scream in his mind again and imagine how much better they would sound when they were made real.

Hours later after the day was left behind on the freeway, he found the answer to that question.

The music of Chris's screams as Matt drove the blade in again and again, carved out his pain into another, and took his time, was so beautiful. The agony in them reflected all of that which Matt had for so long bottled up inside himself, and now that glass bottle had shattered, and there was no containing the hurt, the bitterness, the rage. Chris's eyes begged him without words, the same way Matt had begged others before Chris not to leave him, but Matt's times of begging were done with. The warm blood splashing over Matt's hands, arms, soaking into his clothes, and splattering across his face, dripping from his hair, was like a crimson baptism. He could feel the darkness washing away from him, and the edges of peace coming over him. But not yet, there were others. Chris's spilled blood could cover his own transgressions, but could not wash away the sins of the others.

Finally, Matt was finished with his husband. He made sure the man was done with by one last cut, selecting the knife carefully, and grinning as he see-sawed the unsmooth blade of the steak knife across Chris's throat, stopping only when he felt it grind against bone.

So liberating, so fucking liberating.

Panting, Matt got to his feet and gathered the blood sheathed blades. The carpet around the scene was died black with the pond of blood soaked into it. His clothes likewise were heavy with the ruby offering, his dark curls sopped and dripping. With a small smile Matt backed away from the cut-up body, getting a last look at the gaping wounds and leaking organs. It was a painting better created than any masterpiece his brother had ever birthed from brushes and acrylic.

Matt left the room, not caring if he was seen or not. He was sure someone had heard Chris's tortured cries, but no one stopped him. The hallway was deserted, and he took the stairs rather than the elevator. Night had since fallen, and there was no one at the desk or milling around in the lobby. Security cameras were found later to have picked up on his exit, one shot making the evidence damning, as Matt turned his red-masked face up to one of the cameras, and grinned at it. There was much to-do over why security hadn't stopped him then and there from leaving, apprehending him, and thus others could have been saved. After much interrogation by the police, it was uncovered that the nights security had been playing poker rather than tending to their jobs. Matt hadn't been seen on the cameras until the tapes were confiscated and replayed. Then, it was too late.

Matt got back into his car and drove again. During his butchering of his husband, well, ex-husband now, he had gotten out of him where his new young lover was. Apparently they had split after that night and nothing more had happened, but that didn't matter. Once was plenty enough—if Matt chose to believe Chris anyway.

Korklan was staying at a different motel. After all, he was basically a jobber not the veteran Chris was, and his salary afforded him less of an upscale stay. The drive wasn't that far, and Matt parked his car outside. He had the room number from Chris, and he actually found it amusing. If Chris had ever professed to love 'Evan' then he was an even bigger liar, seeing as how he had turned over the whereabouts of the young man a bit too easily.

Korklan's door was right in front of Matt's parking space. Matt only had to walk a few feet, and knock on the door. The other Matt opened up but quickly tried to slam the door closed. He panicked, seeing a man who he didn't even at first recognize as Hardy, but who was covered head to toe in blood. The door stuck ajar however, because Hardy had wedged his boot in between. Korklan started to scream, and then to fight back as Hardy advanced on him, but he was quickly subdued from any defense of his quick flying kicks when Matt jammed the serrated knife he'd used on Chris's throat, straight into Korklan's eye. The agile brunette stumbled backwards, crying out as his trembling hand groped for his blinded eye. Blood poured down his face and he collapsed onto the floor, in shock at what was happening to him. Matt's boot connected hard to his head, sending his consciousness spinning. Something was stuffed into his mouth to keep him quiet, and later investigation found the object of his silence to be downright gruesome: The severed testicles of the blond who had met his end earlier that night.

Just as Matt was finishing with 'Evan' the door left cracked was pushed open.

"Hey man, I got the pi--"

Cody Rhodes stopped in midstride. He was already half way into the room before he noticed the red splattered over the walls and floor, and the two men in the room. The box of pizza tumbled from his hands and spilled onto the floor. He leapt onto Matt and began to fight him, but the fight was quickly ended as a butcher knife was thrust into Cody's chest and twisted until the young man slumped lifeless against Matt. Matt pulled the knife clean, and shoved Cody's spent body onto the floor where it crumpled into an awkward heap.

He stepped over it, and left to find the next on his list. Cody of course hadn't been on it, the little whore was just unfortunate enough to be rooming with the wrong jobber that night.

The bodies piled up, and by the time was over three more were added to the massacre: Adam Copeland, Amy Dumas, and Matt's own brother.

The last found was the one that shocked the world the most. Matt never gave any proper explanation for it, only to be quoted as saying: 'He was the same as the others'. Later there were many theories thrown out by psychologists, investigators, and profilers alike. The main theories were basically similar: that younger brother Jeff Hardy had landed himself on Matt's list because he had 'stolen' the spotlight, Matt's career, Matt's fans, etc. Matt Hardy had worked hard for his deserved place within his career, and yet it was Jeff who continued to get pushed higher and higher within the business despite his missteps, and Matt was left behind. Jeff had promised Matt time and time again that he would seek help for his own problems, that he would stop having to rely on Matt to pick him up each time he crashed, to stop haunting his brother with the thoughts of what his recklessness could lead to, but Jeff never did. He went back on his promises, all of them did.

The motive behind all the murders was clear enough: All of those people had used and abused Matt Hardy, breaking his heart time and time again—even Jeff. It was time for them to pay for their sins.

The trial was all over the headlines, pasted on T.V. screens everywhere, sensationalized to the highest degree.

At the arraignment it was reported that the judge had made Matt known of his charges as per usual:

"Matthew Moore Hardy, you have been charged with six counts of first degree murder in the deaths of Christopher Keith Irvine, Matthew Joseph Korklan, Cody Garret Runnels, Adam Joseph Copeland, Amy Christine Dumas, and Jeffrey Nero Hardy, how do you plead?"

Quietness enveloped the courtroom. Matt's smile widened a little, and when he spoke his voice was like a gust of chill, December wind.

"On my hands and knees…" He smirked, but then the expression came unhinged and just wavered somewhere between a frown and a smile, as though he didn't know which to do. "Only no one ever listens."

After his trail, the jury came back with their decision after a quick deliberation:

Guilty on all six counts.

Matthew Moore Hardy once said in an interview conducted in prison, that he was indeed guilty of all charges.

"I am guilty, guilty by reason of heartbreak."

"Sir," The buxom young reporter started, tucking strands of her red hair behind her ear. "Heartbreak is not recognized as a criminal defense."

Matt shrugged the shoulders of his bright orange jumpsuit, and just smiled that eerie smile at her, and blinked his vacant eyes.

"It should be."

She swallowed hard, and continued on with her questioning.

"Wh-why did you do it?"

Matt laughed.

"Miss Hughes," He leaned close to the journalist, tilting his head at her, waiting to see the fear creep into her eyes. He brought his hand between their faces, squeezed his thumb against his fingers, and the sound of the simple action seemed like a gunshot in the small, still, cell. "I snapped."

Matthew Moore Hardy serves his time on death row, awaiting his execution.


End file.
